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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135970">My Friend on the Other Side of the Looking Glass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenetaPsi/pseuds/VenetaPsi'>VenetaPsi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Scream and a Dream [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lunch Club, Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Best Friends, District 7 (Hunger Games), Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hunger Games, Hunger Games Spectators, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Main Character Condi, Male Friendship, Outside of the Arena, Spectators</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:28:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135970</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenetaPsi/pseuds/VenetaPsi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was on the tip of his tongue. There, begging to be freed. </p>
<p>    'I volunteer'.</p>
<p>    Two words, so easily spoken. </p>
<p>    But Condi was a coward. A selfish coward and he knew it, and his lips stayed sealed as Charlie stepped onto the stage, arms wrapped around himself, and the man turned to the crowd and asked for Volunteers.</p>
<p>    And Condi said nothing, brain screaming, body trembling.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlie Dalgleish &amp; Condifiction (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Scream and a Dream [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Friend on the Other Side of the Looking Glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934958">on a roll of the dice (a story from floor 6)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynxleitmotif/pseuds/everythingFangirl">everythingFangirl (lynxleitmotif)</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Condi sat in a patch of grass, picking the small scale-like bits of a pinecone off of the stalk one by one. He was very meticulous with it; starting at the very bottom and working his way up towards the narrower top in a tight spiral, until his lap was littered with shreds of bark and dirt, and he was holding the bare core of a pine tree’s seed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Condi, what exactly did the pinecone ever do to you?” A voice asked, sounding somewhere in between exasperated and amused. Condi glanced up at the tree above him, and the brunet who sat upon one of the large, lower branches, bare legs dangling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Nothing,” Condi admitted, standing up and brushing the mess from his pants. He glanced over at the tree and then up at Charlie again, debating whether he should join his friend or not. “What do you think is taking them so long?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie shrugged as Condi reached up to grab a hold of a knot on the trunk of the tree and hoisted himself up, worn shoes skidding on the bark. He reached down and offered Condi and hand and he took it, letting Charlie pull him up into the branches. Condi settled himself on a branch across from his hand and looked down at the grass, swinging his legs experimentally. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“We should stay up here and then when they show up, scream and jump on them,” Charlie suggested, voice quick and excited with the idea of a prank. Condi laughed, pulling his knees up to his chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” He agreed easily, and they sat in companionable silence in the tree, listening to the leaves rustling in the wind and the occasional scamper of a squirrel. Charlie hummed something, an idle tune, and Condi tapped his fingers on his leg in time to his rhythm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>In the distance, the two began to hear voices and approaching footsteps; familiar tones, and Charlie quieted straightening up, and gave Condi a conspiratorial glance. Condi smiled at him faintly and brought a finger to his lips as their friends approached. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie grinned back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Two years later, Condi was standing in a crowd of boys his age for the sixth time, staring up at a stage that was all too familiar and a part of a ceremony he wanted nothing to do with. Charlie was at his side, like always, and they stood close together in the group of seventeen year olds. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi swallowed thickly as speeches and origin stories he knew by heart flowed from the Mayor’s lips, more preoccupied with the glass balls of paper sitting innocently on small stands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He felt sick to his stomach with fear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He didn’t quite remember reaching for Charlie’s hand, but his friend only squeezed back, letting Condi grip tightly and use Charlie’s presence as a life line as the man on stage turned and headed for the ball in front of Condi and all of the other boys, from twelve to eighteen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>District 7’s capitol announcer pulled out a paper, crumpled, and opened it up, clearing his throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Charlie Dalgleish!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>And Condi froze. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>His brain had been such a terrible mess of </span>
  <em>
    <span>please don’t be fucking me </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he’d never even considered-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie was stiff at his side, and numbly Condi turned to stare at his friend who was watching the stage with a strange, fearful expression. Condi couldn’t breathe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Then Charlie’s hand slid from his and Condi could do nothing but watch his friend walk through the parted crowd towards the stage, rooted to the spot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>It was on the tip of his tongue. There, begging to be freed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I volunteer.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Two words, so easily spoken. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>But Condi was a coward. A selfish coward and he knew it, and his lips stayed sealed as Charlie stepped onto the stage, arms wrapped around himself, and the man turned to the crowd and asked for Volunteers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>And Condi said nothing, brain screaming, body trembling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Then it was too late, and the man was heading for the girl’s ball. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi was vaguely aware of someone- Jared maybe, fighting their way through the crowd towards him. But all he could see was his best friend up there and how </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>small</span>
  </em>
  <span> the seventeen year old looked and the horrible guilt and fear and panic pooling in his chest threatened to drown him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>His fucking friend was going into that arena. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>His friend-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He could've Volunteered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>But Charlie would never have forgiven him for it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Jared’s arms encircled him and pulled him into a tight embrace before the tears began to fall. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>They gathered together in a small group, all four of them, watching their friend up there shake hands with Grace Safford. A girl they all knew as well. Watched the two teens be presented as the tributes of District 7.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They did not clap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>A thick silence hung over the willow clearing as they four of them sat in the grass, sealed off from the rest of the district by leaves and hanging branches. Most people, Condi knew, were partying- in relief that they were not chosen by the reaping. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The air was heavy and weighted and they were all acutely aware of the gap in their circle, the empty spot on Condi’s left. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“FUCK!” Grizzly shouted suddenly, shattering the stillness, and he whirled to his feet, slamming his fist into a nearby tree trunk. “Fucking- </span>
  <em>
    <span>WHY?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi hugged himself, watching numbly as Bizly jumped to his feet and caught Grizzly’s hand before the man could slam his bloodied fist into the tree once more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Fuck…” Grizzly whispered again, voice cracking, and they all stayed silent as he broke down, his choking cries filling the clearing. Condi held out a shaking hand, and Grizzly grabbed it. His palm and fingers were sweaty and cold and he squeezed Condi’s hand like a vice. Bizly’s arms were still wrapped around Grizzly, holding him in place, and hesitantly, Jared moved closer, pressing himself into Condi’s side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Their group sat, quiet and cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The first time the tributes for each game were shown on TV after the reaping was when they were a part of the Opening Ceremony; a parade of carriages where the tributes were dressed up and displayed for the first time, taken down the road to the front of the training center. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The four of them crowded in Jared’s house, squished together in a small bundle of blankets and feather pillows, staring at the small tv on a beaten wooden podium in the front room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>There was an anxiousness over the gathering, both a terrible hope and a numbing fear. Condi caught himself chewing on the tips of his nails anxiously, gnawing at the stubs. It had only been a day, but Charlie’s absence was only too obvious. Now they all watched the capital announcers talk with bated breath. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“...what do you think the costumes will be like this year?” Jared quietly asked. A resounding silence answered his question before Grizzly shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Tree based, probably,” He mumbled, and his voice was bitter. “District 7 is always forestry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>But despite their low, simmering anger, Condi knew each one of them was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>waiting </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see Charlie. No matter how he looked. Condi just wanted to see him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The chariots rolled out of the building in district order, and Condi felt sick as he watched the career districts- 1, 2 and 4. These people were trained to kill. Built for the arena. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Charlie didn’t know how to fight.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi pressed himself closer to Bizly, and his friend wrapped a tight arm around his shoulders, giving Condi a half-hug. Their whole group held their breath as District 6 rolled out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Finally, a chariot that was decorated in a green, mossy fabric and solemn browns strode out of the stables, led by two pale brown horses that tossed their heads energetically. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi finally caught sight of Charlie since his friend had vanished into the Mayor’s house, and his breath caught. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie and Grace’s hands were stubbornly locked between them; fingers interlaced in a way Condi had never seen any tribute duo do before. Grace’s head was held high, chin raised and she practically glowed with determination, expression fierce, and an almost viciously stubborn smile on her lips. Like she was trying to prove something as she stood there, wrapped in browns and greens. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie’s expression was closed in a way Condi had never seen before. The tension in his shoulders, the thin line of his lips betrayed a fear and anger Condi recognized, but he knew that wasn’t how others would interpret the look. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie’s own outfit was a blend of green and soft autumn oranges and reds. Atop his head was what Condi could only describe as a crown; a wreath of twigs and suddenly Condi wanted to scream. To dive and the screen and grab Charlie and pull him through, away from this mess of </span>
  <em>
    <span>games</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>showmanship </span>
  </em>
  <span>and bring him back to their side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Jared’s expression was murderous. Grizzly gaped quietly, lips parted and Bizly pulled Condi tighter into his side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The man on the screen already looked less like their Charlie, closer to a shell and Condi felt so tired, so helpless suddenly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They sat in silence, watching the parade and listening to the President’s speech until the chariots entered the training center and the doors were shut. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The broadcast ended. They wouldn’t see Charlie again for three days, not until the interviews. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi twisted the strand of twine around his wrist anxiously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Time crawled. Days spent walking around outside in a melancholy haze or huddled in bed, until the evening of the third day, when training scores were released. They huddled up in Jared’s house again, watching the screen as tribute by tribute, district by district. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>10, 8, 4, 3, 7-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Each male tribute, then female until the girl from District 6 got a ‘4’.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Charlie Dalgleish, District 7;  ‘1’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bizly said after a second, voicing all of their thoughts as they stared at the opposing ‘one’- the lowest training score any of them had ever seen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“How-” Jared mumbled, rubbing his temples and Condi restlessly jumped to his feet and began to pace, watching the screen still. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Grace Safford, District 7;  ‘6’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“How did he get a ONE?” Grizzly exploded gesturing wildly at the screen and District 8’s ‘7’ and ‘4’ appeared on the screen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi buried his face in his hands, sagging back against the wall. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“...It must’ve been intentional, right?” Jared asked cautiously, still watching the screen, and Condi scrubbed at his eyes before sitting on the small bed in the corner of the room. Grizzly let out a long sigh and fell back on his back, staring at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi was certain it had to be intentional, the score. Charlie was by no means incompetent. But fear still wrapped it’s way around his heart. A score that bad meant no, absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> sponsors- which was basically the key to surviving the arena.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He wanted to cry suddenly, or shake Charlie violently and call him an idiot. Maybe both. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi stayed on the bed, fingers clenching the sheets as Jared continued to watch and Grizzly stormed out of the house. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The next day was interviews. Condi sat alone in the willow clearing that morning, pawing at the grass and watching the water in the creek bubble along. He sat there until Grizzly came and found him, and told him the broadcast was about to start. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They walked back together down the dirt streets of District 5, winding their way between the wooden houses. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“...how are you holding up?” Grizzly asked gently after a few minutes of silence, and Condi gave him a look that must’ve been sourer than he meant, because Grizzly raised his hands in a placating gesture. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The rest of their walk passed without conversation, and Jared and Bizly were waiting for them when they stepped into the house. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Grizzly and Condi sat on the bed while Jared and Bizly took the floor, and they grimiced their way through the Capitol anthem and the announcers’ commentary until the tributes walked out on stage. Immediately Condi honed in on Charlie. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Whoever had dressed him had put him in a simple outfit. Dark pants and red shoes, and a simple white shirt made him appear strangely innocent beside the rest of the tributes. He looked more like a simple teen then any of them. He was wearing a scarf though, of dark grey and green accents, and Condi realized he was wearing simple makeup that darkened his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>It wasn’t until Charlie’s name was called and he stood up, walking towards the chair and the interviewer in the center of the room, that Condi realized the intention behind whoever had organized Charlie’s outfit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The second his friend stepped into the spotlight, the effect of the simple clothes and the dark makeup created the incredibly unsettling image of someone completely innocent with eyes that were deadly. Condi’s stomach twisted and a spike of genuine fear rushed over him as Charlie sat in the seat; a hush having settled over the crowd. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“So Charlie…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The interviewer said, shifting in his seat to face the boy from District 7. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Your training score gave us quite the surprise. Let me in…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He leaned closer, smiling at the crowd as though letting them in on a secret. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is there something you aren’t telling us?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie stared at the man for a second, then leaned forward as well, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers loosely interlaced. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“...I don’t think I’d tell you if I did,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He said after a beat, and Condi released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding after hearing his friend’s voice for the first time in five days. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The announcer chuckled and smiled at him. Charlie’s lips quirked slightly; not quite a smile, but a simple acknowledgment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Do you have someone at home you’re playing for? Someone you’re trying to impress perhaps?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie looked down, expression turning slightly sheepish as he shook his head.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “...my friends. I can’t let them down, now can I?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie’s words echoed around the small house like a gunshot, and Condi’s heart twisted so painfully he almost cried out. What sounded like a joke to the Capital crowd that laughed along sounded bitter to Condi’s ears. Like Charlie was digging at the crowd without them realizing it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Is that from them?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The interviewer asked, leaning forward to touch Charlie’s wrist- his finger settling on the bit of twine there. Condi instinctively reached for his own wrist as Charlie smiled for the first time; something sad and fond. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The tribute said simply, and the weight of the word settled over the crowd; strangely powerful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Grizzly scooched closer, pressing their legs together, and somehow their hands found each other. Condi squeezed anxiously. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Charlie, our minute is almost up- tell me, is there anything we should expect? Anything to look out for from you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie sat quietly for a second, staring down, and when he looked up at the interviewer finally, his expression was cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“We’ll see,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He said simply, and a buzzer exploded over the stage. Charlie rose to his feet and walked back to his chair as Grace stood, and Condi didn’t know how to feel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Is he </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to sabotage his chances?” Jared almost wailed, sounding desperate and confused. “He- He- God he’s not going to get any sponsors. He’s not going to last in there without them, he’s-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>He’s going to die.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Maybe he’s playing some sort of...like...brooding and mysterious angle,” Bizly offered hesitantly, and something deep in Condi’s chest snapped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No he’s not,” He snarled, jumping to his feet. “He’s being himself- he’s angry and bitter and he's just letting that show. He’s terrified and he’s trying to hide it and he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying. </span>
  </em>
  <span>God FUCKING DAMN IT CHARLIE!” Condi screamed at the TV, snatching his arm away when Grizzly tried to grab at him. “WE MADE A PROMISE THAT WE’D </span>
  <em>
    <span>TRY</span>
  </em>
  <span> IF WE GOT REAPED! FOR EACH OTHER!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Someone said something but Condi had already turned away, shoving out of the house and into the street, running through the light rain that had begun to fall. He ran until he was deep in the trees, out of sight of the houses before he sank to his knees, sobbing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You can’t die on us,” He wailed, curling into a ball around his shaking frame, raindrops sinking into his hair and clothes and leaving him cold and shaking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“You promised.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi watched the countdown in the arena on the tiny, beaten tablet his family had, curled up in his bed under a mound of blankets. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He had a tickle in his throat that wouldn’t leave, not since he’d spent those three hours out in the rain, and he couldn’t bear facing the others right now. Not after his complete and utter breakdown. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Now though Condi was regretting that decision as he chewed at his nails nervously, watching the counter tick down. His eyes were glued to Charlie on the far edge of the circle of tributes and he found suddenly he couldn’t breathe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>On average a third to half of the tributes died in the blood bath and-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi swallowed a choked sound and hid further in his little bundle, watching the tablet screen through the smallest crack possible. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie looked down seconds before the buzzer sounded, and when it did and everyone else began to run, he didn’t move, staring downwards. Condi’s tension grew until finally he burst out a strangled, teary- “Charlie </span>
  <em>
    <span>DO </span>
  </em>
  <span>something!” wanting so badly to look away but unable to force himself to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Almost like he’d heard Condi’s cry, Charlie suddenly looked up; wide eyed and fearful, and with one double take of the Cornucopia, Charlie turned tail and ran. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Relief hit Condi so hard he burst into tears right then and there, muffling his sobs with the edge of his blanket as he watched Charlie disappear into the city. The camera stayed focused on the blood bath but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Charlie wasn’t a part of it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so Condi clamped his hands over his ears and looked away and tried to ignore the death like he did every year. It took him a few minutes to stop the flow of tears that just kept coming, and he realized suddenly how absolutely petrified he was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He didn’t want to see his friend die. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You can do this Charlie…” He whispered weakly, chancing a look at the tablet and flinching away as he watched one of the careers impale a girl with a trident. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The broadcast for the games was live 24/7, edited as it went out with replays constantly so people didn’t miss things. The last image of Charlie Condi saw before he fell asleep was when the camera cut to him walking down the dark streets, poking experimentally at little nooks in the alley walls and finding small tubers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Then he was out like a light. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The next day Jared was waiting for him when he woke up, holding the tablet in his hands. Wordlessly, Condi moved to make room for his friend on the bed beside him, offering some of the blanket, and Jared snuggled up next to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They didn’t talk, but Condi appreciated the comfort and the company regardless, knowing that his face must be wrecked from all the tears he’d shed the previous day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Charlie gave them their second heart attack of the game that evening, running wildly from the District 1 careers- and Grace too, fucking following them- and barely escaping. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“WHY WOULD YOU HIDE BEHIND THE DOOR?” Jared shrieked after the male had slipped off and Charlie had sagged to the ground safely, breathing hard. “YOU IDIOT, YOU ABSOLUTE- ONE WRONG SOUND AND YOU WOULD BE DEAD-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi clutched the tablet with white-knuckled fingers and tried to get his breathing and racing heart under control. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Fuck,” He mumbled, staring at Charlie’s hunched form; hair messy and dirty, body soaked in sweat. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Over the next two days, multiple fights occurred that the group (once again having drifted together, though this time in Condi’s room) ignored, or tried to. They didn’t care for the bloody fighting of the other tributes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They slept in shifts, someone with the tablet at all times, because District 1 was trying to hunt Charlie down and they couldn’t miss anything. As much as Condi didn’t want to watch- and as much as he knew Charlie probably didn’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> to watch- He had to. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to, he wouldn’t be able to stand not knowing what was going on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He wished he didn’t though, when Bizly woke them all with a shriek of Charlie’s name. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They all stared in frozen, numb horror as the girl from One backed Charlie up into the corner of an empty shopping mall; crowded between walls and glass that wouldn’t break. Condi backed up until his back hit the wall, hands over his mouth, trembling as he started at the tablet and the scene unfolding; transfixed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Charlie don’t you fucking dare,” Grizzly whimpered, clutching his blanket around himself as the girl pointed her spear, sneering and spitting threats. “I swear to god if you don’t do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Grizzly's voice cracked with tears. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Jared was deathly silent. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>It was sickening, the relief that caused Condi to sink to the floor when Charlie dodged the incoming spear, lunged out of the way. Bizly screamed something when Charlie went down, and then they all stared as their friend threw something and some sort of green ooze ate away at the girl. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi’s stomach rolled at her agonized screams and he wanted to throw up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>And some terrible, horrible part of him was glad she was dying. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Was glad, at least, until Charlie picked up the spear and killed her, sending a cannon blast through the arena. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They sat there in stunned silence as Charlie fell to pieces on screen, laughing and sobbing and inconsolably hysterical. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi sat, hand over his mouth helpless but to watch his best friend crumble and break in front of him, on the other side of a screen and miles away; hands stained with blood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They were all crying, frozen and silent and scared.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>And Charlie wouldn’t stop laughing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi sat in the branches of a tall pine, gazing at the empty spot in front and a little above him, where he remembered a fifteen year old Charlie sitting and teasing him for dismembering a pine cone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>An hour and a half ago, Charlie had become the victor of the 278th Annual Hunger Games after Grace Safford had died in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>After Charlie had murdered two other tributes; the girl from District 1 and the boy from District 8. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>All of the announcers called him Slimecicle now, after his iconic first kill and memorable breakdown, and deep down Condi wondered if Charlie thought of himself as more of that person then the man he’d used to be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The next day would be the game recap, the post-arena interview and the crowning ceremony. After they cleaned Charlie up, addressed his wounds, and made him look like a shining victor rather than a half-starved, beaten and bruised teen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi was so incredibly happy and grateful that Charlie was alive. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>But he wasn’t quite sure that the man who came out of that arena was the same friend they used to have. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He sat in the tree for a long time, until the sun began to sink and his legs and bottom ached from the cramped position. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi just wanted his best friend back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>But he knew he’d lost Charlie the second he’d been reaped. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>The four of them approached the town square together, silent and subdued. The peacekeepers around the border of the crowd gave them foul looks as they signed in- they’d purposely waited until the very last second to show up, hidden in their clump of trees for as long as they possibly could’ve. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>They sank into a little cluster of stiff metal folding chairs, and Condi stared up at the constructed stage, the mentors and staff and the Mayor which took up chairs, and the same man who’d reaped Charlie standing at the microphone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>There were formalities and other speeches and then finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> the doors opened and Charlie walked out of the mayor’s house, flanked by two guards a few paces behind him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi’s breath caught in his throat as he saw his friend in person- not through a screen for the first time since this had all begun. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>All signs of injury had been wiped from Charlie’s features. His hair was trimmed and neatly styled, and he was in simple clothing, similar to his interview outfit. He walked stiff and sure, as though he knew what was expected of him and wanted to get it over with. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>There was a card in his hand that Charlie hardly glanced at before beginning to speak. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi knew the words before Charlie spoke them, because it was the same speech he gave to every district during the Victory Tour. Something about unity and collectivism and “the sacrifices of each young man and woman”- </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>He wanted to throw up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“They killed him,” Jared whispered softly, and Condi fought the urge to look over at his friend, crossing his arms tightly over his chest instead. “It doesn’t matter that he survived the arena. They killed him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>And a terrible part of Condi agreed as he listened to Charlie’s monotone words, as he helplessly searched for any part of his friend that he remembered in the cold shell that stood before them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>When Charlie finished his last line, he hesitated. The moment of silence when unrecognized for a second before Condi picked it up, noticed the confusion sweeping the crowd. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Then he realized that Charlie was staring right at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi’s heart began to beat wildly as Charlie’s jaw tightened, as he got that stubborn expression that Condi knew so fucking well. The one that meant Charlie was about to do something stupid and damn the consequences. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oh my god-” Grizzly breathed, and Condi knew they were all thinking it when Charlie opened his mouth again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“And to my friends,” the young man before the microphone whispered, and the entirety of District 7 seemed to fall silent at his words.  “I’m so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry you were forced to watch what I’ve become.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>That’s our Charlie.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>After a second of silence, there was an uproar- murmuring and shouting and immediately the two guards dragged Charlie back towards the doors of the Mayor’s house as staff began to swarm the stage and the Mayor stepped up to the mic, trying to gloss over Charlie’s words and refocus the show. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Condi was shoving his way through the crowd before he realized what was happening- screaming Charlie’s name because his friend was still staring at him even as he was being dragged away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“CHARLIE!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Condi shrieked, slamming into a wall of peacekeepers he tried to fight through as he watched Charlie get pulled fully into the house, as the door slammed shut. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Gone. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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